The Kids Are Alright
I know, I know. A workshop concert at the conservatory: yawn. And no, hardly anyone showed up – apart from Bent Sørensen. Fair enough. But yes, you missed out. Especially on young Albert Laubel, who did exactly what you hope someone will do at this kind of concert: suddenly step forward, make a mark, and promise something for the future.
It was the English Ligeti Quartet visiting the Royal Danish Academy of Music for the seventh time to work with the students. And they did so with both commitment and precision. (Someone should really give them a prize one day – say, someone sitting on a fortune they clearly don’t know what to do with.)
Lucas Fagervik’s Bells & Canons set up stark oppositions, as composers tend to do in exercises of style: a bright, slightly fractured minor chord set against gentle baroque pastiche in increasingly rapid alternations. Then a movement with brutal – almost banal – glissandi, another with heavy bow strokes, and a final one in which the strings took turns trying to keep a single tone alive. A beautiful, constructive, and Jürg Frey–porous landing.
A different kind of circus instinct drove Yifan Shao’s ultra-short Dreams Evaporated Too Soon, which sounded like abused sounds dragged across a floor. The ending was ultra-theatrical: the quartet froze mid-air for a moment before scraping the last traces of life out of the strings.
»I can make this even more mannered,« Jonas Wiinblad must have thought, opening his String Trio with Viola – not a quartet, of course! – with silent playing. But cliché turned into quiet poetry as small, innocent intervals slowly emerged in tight patterns. When the viola was finally allowed to join, it went against the grain: a virtuosic solo cadenza with falling bow strokes, shimmering overtones, and temperament. Boom! A striking contrast. Less convincing was the piece’s apparent need for a final, unnecessary layer of electronic distortion. Still, points for mannerism.
What remained was Albert Laubel’s String Quartet as the most fully realized work of the concert. Not overthought, just a seamless movement between dynamic extremes. Distinctive trills were elegantly disarmed by inserted snaps, glissandi sounded like part of an internal logic rather than mere effect, and the sound world shifted with calm dramatic overview. Substance and maturity in 2026 – well, well.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek
Deadly Serious Play at Louisiana
New Sounds at Louisiana is an initiative in which the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art has invited the record label Dacapo and the music publisher Edition S to curate concerts featuring living composers. Simon Steen-Andersen was the first composer in the series, and he seized the opportunity to assemble a programme that was not only overwhelming and exhilarating, but also deeply unsettling. Lasting an hour, the concert unfolded as a continuous sequence in which each work flowed seamlessly into the next, forming a single extended statement of at least part of the composer’s artistic practice and philosophy.
Combining video and live performance, the concert served as a manifestation of several of Steen-Andersen’s key artistic strategies. Central among them are techniques of estrangement and defamiliarisation, exemplified by Asthma (2017) for accordion, air pumps, and video, a work that explores and interrogates human breathing in all its positive and negative dimensions. Amid the many grotesque and humorous scenes – accompanied by Håkon Stene’s brilliant Foley-style soundtrack of air noises, sound effects, and spoken commentary – a brief clip of brutal police violence suddenly appears. In it, an officer methodically sprays pepper spray into the faces of handcuffed demonstrators. In that instant, everything else no longer seems quite so funny, and the crooked smile freezes.
The concert was a veritable sensory bombardment. Presenting all the works attacca undoubtedly created a powerful sense of flow, but it also left the audience almost saturated with impressions. Even so, the subsequent conversation between Simon Steen-Andersen and music critic and author Thomas Michelsen felt far too brief. Yet the composer succeeded in making his point: everything he does, he said, is a form of »deadly serious play.« Exactly.
Gintė Preisaitė Turns Doubt into Music
You increasingly encounter Gintė Preisaitė in different contexts and under different names – solo as Baraboro and as part of the trio Treen. With Instruments of Forgetting and the Singing Bone, the Lithuanian-Danish composer releases her first album under her own name, and it certainly feels like her most personal work to date.
Above all, this is because Preisaitė sings on seven of the album’s eight tracks. She treats her voice as an instrument equal to all the others, and although the singing is lyrical, she primarily uses it to create texture, depth, and contrast. On »Summary Saint Mary«, for instance, layers of vocals in different registers intermingle with scraping background noise, rapid pulses, resonant bass, and a multitude of sounds of both digital and analog origin. It feels refreshingly fragmentary – a willingness to play with uncertainty. Not everything coheres, yet it is precisely this lack of cohesion that makes the music feel alive and compelling.
Only on »Nippon Dreams« – a dense collage of percussion, samples, and field recordings of Japanese voices – is Preisaitė’s vocal absent. And it is only then that one realizes how essential it has been as a point of orientation throughout the album. Its absence leaves a void that underscores the duality Preisaitė works with: the music feels both intimate and cool, present and distant.
Instruments of Forgetting and the Singing Bone does not provide many answers. Instead, it becomes yet another fascinating piece in the puzzle of Preisaitė’s singular oeuvre.
A Violinist with Fire in His Bow
There is nothing quite like true enthusiasts. They champion composers and works that might otherwise have remained dormant. Here we have the exuberant violinist Darragh Morgan, who since the age of fifteen (!) has promoted and performed contemporary music. He knows what works and has a keen instinct for new pieces and composers – especially on this album with the not exactly catchy title Spin – New Music for Violin & Orchestra from Northern Ireland. Four relatively recent violin concertos, all centred around Morgan as soloist. Two of them are dedicated to the musical firebrand himself.
There is fire in Brian Irvine’s violin concerto À mon seul désir from the very beginning, where sparkling motifs and riffs erupt everywhere. Almost too much energy and activity – but it works, and all the fierce gestures are carefully balanced. The movement is titled »With a big life embracing energy«. Concrete and descriptive – the Irish leave the grand spheres of abstraction to the contemporary music scene in Central Europe. I have replayed the dramatic climax of the second movement several times out of sheer enthusiasm, and the entire concerto (which lasts only fifteen minutes) ends with angelic beauty on Morgan’s highest, finest strings.
Ryan Molloy’s three-movement violin concerto, stretching beyond twenty minutes, by contrast tends to drift somewhat aimlessly, although the final movement reaches a strong level. Bill Campbell’s Swim is unmistakably Irish in tone throughout, conjuring images of rolling fields and the proud Irish landscape. Midway through the quarter-hour work, Darragh Morgan delivers a heartfelt and expansive solo cadenza.
Fortunately, Frank Lyons’s Spin 3 is also a small gem, leaving the listener uplifted by this new Northern Irish music performed by the Ulster Orchestra and the fascinating Darragh Morgan, whose deep personal dedication gives so much to the music.
English translation: Andreo Michaelo Mielczarek